The Best Laid Schemes of Mice and Men
by JamesLuver
Summary: Modern AU. John Bates has big plans for this particular April day, wanting everything to be absolutely perfect. But sometimes not every incident can be foreseen, and sometimes those plans can take the most unexpected of turns. Cover image by annambates.


**A/N:** Happy Birthday, **mr-and-mrs-bates**! I hope you are having a wonderful day, and I hope you enjoy my gift to you. You are such a lovely support for everyone in the fandom, and you deserve the best of days.

The amazing cover art was made by **annambates** over on Tumblr. Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me use it here! I love it so much; it's perfect!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

 _The Best Laid Schemes of Mice and Men_

John sighed as the alarm clock shrieked, signalling the start to another day. Beside him, Anna groaned, burying her head under the pillow, as if doing that would stop that awful noise. John tucked himself tighter to her back, unwilling to let go just yet. She felt so nice, lying solid in his arms. He'd missed her over the weekend. She'd been at a teacher's conference all the way up in Newcastle. It had only been for two days, and yet he'd mourned for her as if she'd been gone a month.

His life had changed so much since the moment that she'd stepped into it. Or, rather, since he had stepped into hers. A handyman at a school had hardly been his ideal career change after the thrill of the army, but that was where his injury had led him. At the time, he had been despondent, ashamed that his life choices had lead to such a change in circumstances. Now, he couldn't be more grateful, because despite the pain and humiliation he had gone through, meeting Anna had made everything more than worthwhile. Something had sparked between them that first day, when she had brought him a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits from the staff room while he fiddled with one of the light fixtures in her classroom during morning break, mere hours after meeting for the first time. It had lit a fuse inside himself, too. And her, though he would confess, even five years on, to having no idea how he'd managed it. She said that he'd caught her attention when she'd been given an eyeful of his backside poking out of one of the cupboards when she'd first caught sight of him, but he remained sceptical—she had to be teasing him on that score. Whatever it was, he was thankful for it, was thankful to fate for throwing them together when he'd thought he was beyond the hope of ever meeting someone again.

He reached out to switch the alarm clock off, snuggling back down once that had been completed. He wasn't going to move until Anna did. As far as he was concerned, they could lay like this all day. He could claim that he had work to do from home. Perhaps Anna could ring in sick on the pretence that she'd eaten something funny while in Newcastle. They could spend all day most agreeably right here, wrapped up in the bed sheets and each other, living off love alone. John didn't mind changing his plans for _that_. It might even work out for the better.

But Anna seemed to have different ideas. When he started to press kisses to the back of her neck, she squirmed out of his embrace, pushing the quilt back. Precisely what he hadn't wanted.

"You're going to make me late," she mumbled, planting her feet on the floor and shivering. He sat up, moving to wrap his arms around her waist and continue his loving exploration of her neck.

"You've never complained before," he murmured. "In fact, you're usually the one persuading me."

"Well, I can't today. I've got an important day at the school. You know I have."

"The talk with your head of department," he sighed.

"Precisely. This could be very good for me. She's going on maternity soon, and this could be my chance to prove myself. If she decides not to come back, it could be my job permanently. If not…well, I could always consider moving schools. I'm happy where I am, but I want to move forward, too. That seems the next logical step, don't you think?"

"Of course," he said. He kissed her shoulder, then let her go. She slipped out of bed, pulling her nightdress over her head and dropping it casually to the floor. The minx. She knew what she was doing, teasing him like that when she'd forbidden him from touching. He felt the tightening low down and tried to avert his eyes from the perfect roundness of her buttocks. It wasn't an easy task. She giggled.

"What's wrong?" she said.

"I think you know," he said.

"You could always join me in the shower."

"Better not. That's never ended well for us before. If you're serious about getting to work on time, it'd be in your best interest to leave me here."

"Don't have too much fun without me," she said cheekily.

He snorted, shaking his head as she waltzed out of the room with an extra sway in her hips. Later. He'd have his way later.

* * *

He'd just about calmed his body down when Anna reappeared in the bedroom, clad in nothing but a towel, her hair a messy bun atop her head. She looked beautiful. She began rummaging in the wardrobe for something to wear. John sat up on his elbows to watch her more easily. She pulled out a dark dress, suitable but somehow still sexy because of it. Definitely a winner.

To keep his mind from the gutter, he asked, "So how about we do something later?"

Anna arched her eyebrow over her shoulder as she pulled on her knickers and tights. "What do you mean?"

This was it. The opportunity he had been looking for for the last few weeks. He would be a fool to pass it up. Anna would be in a good mood, they might have something to celebrate…what could be better than that?

"I thought we might go out to dinner," he said. "Somewhere nice to celebrate this potential promotion."

"It's temporary at best. Hardly a reason to celebrate."

"Let's go out anyway. It's been a while since we last did. It'll make a nice change."

She shrugged. He'd hoped for a bit more enthusiasm than that. "If you really want to. Did you have somewhere in mind?"

"I was thinking the Netherby."

Anna's eyes almost popped out of her head. "The _Netherby_!? Have you lost your mind?"

"Why, what's wrong with that?"

"It costs a bleedin' fortune there, that's what."

"Well, you don't get too many nice places to eat round here. What's wrong with treating ourselves every now and then?"

"There's treating ourselves and there's spending silly money," she said. "What's wrong with the Grantham Arms?"

"Nothing, if you just want pub food," he said with a huff.

"It's good pub food."

And he wanted so much more than that for them this evening. This was important. It had to be special. Special enough for Anna Smith, who was the most precious person in his life. Nothing but the best would be good enough.

"It's just one meal," he said. "We can afford to splash out. I _want_ to be able to treat you. You are my girlfriend."

That made her smile and soften. He could still remember the way she'd looked when she'd broached that topic the first time. What to call each other. A little shy, the eagerness lighting her face nevertheless. They'd been lying in bed together, basking in a very satisfactory afterglow, she idly plucking her fingers through the hairs on his chest, and she'd asked the question: how should she refer to him if others asked, as they were bound to with the time they were spending together more openly? Significant Other sounded silly. Partner sounded like they were unable to commit to marriage. Sweetheart made them sound too young, beau too old-fashioned. Truthfully, he'd worried a little about being Anna's boyfriend, afraid that it too seemed like an association for someone far younger than his years, but there had not really been much of an alternative. And the smile that had lit Anna's face when he'd tentatively suggested the simplest of labels had been enough to put the fears to one side, if not silence them entirely. Anna had liked the idea of him being her boyfriend, so that was what he'd become. And it had been nice, standing on her arm and hearing her introduce him to the people she shared her life with: _"Hello, this is my boyfriend, John Bates…"_

Hers. God, he had been hers for so long.

He wanted to be hers forever. He wanted it to be official.

"Dinner tonight," she conceded. "Now, let me get on."

"I'll make a start on breakfast," he offered.

"That's so sweet," she cooed. "You're a darling. Coffee, please?"

"Strong to get you going, just how you like it," he confirmed. "And a hearty breakfast to see you through this meeting."

"Sounds heavenly. I'm the luckiest woman in the world."

"That's funny. I'm the luckiest man."

She beamed at him through the mirror and he returned the expression, slipping out of bed and reaching for his worn dressing gown. This was actually working out to his favour. Spoil the lady on an important day. That was something that he definitely needed to do. Make every moment of it special. What better way than indeed starting it off with a lovingly prepared, if not entirely successful, breakfast?

Yes, John Bates was determined that she would remember every detail of this day for the rest of her life.

* * *

"Something smells heavenly," said Anna as she came into the room.

John turned to face her, a little out of breath. Not everything had gone according to plan—he'd burned one batch of toast in his nervous daydreaming and had had to start again, and the sausages were just the wrong side of well done—but overall it wasn't a bad effort for a man whose best attempts at cooking didn't extend much further beyond the most basic of dishes.

"Anything for milady," he said, beginning to plate it up. "Sit down, I'll bring it over."

"Thank you, kind sir," she giggled, seating herself at the table and picking up the mug of coffee he had placed there a few moments previous. She sipped on it with grateful hums as he brought her breakfast over to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before retrieving his own. Not that he had much appetite for it.

Anna devoured hers in record time, something that brought a smile to his lips. For someone small, she had a deceptively large appetite. Often she was the one who had second helpings. She was eyeing him dubiously now.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Why aren't you eating?"

He pushed the plate away with a sigh. "I suppose I'm just not hungry."

She frowned at him. "You need to eat something."

"I'll be fine."

"I mean it. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

He looked down at his plate. He had managed a slice of toast and half a sausage. The rest looked oddly unappealing now. "If I get hungry later I can grab brunch. There's no point forcing it down my neck."

Anna gave him a strange look, but thankfully she dropped the subject when she glanced at the clock. Her eyes widened. "God, look at time! I'll need to head off in a minute…!"

She looked at him apologetically, and he smiled, reading the silent question in her gaze. "It's fine. I can clean up here. Go."

"Wonderful man," she murmured, leaning across to give him a quick kiss before pushing her chair away from the table. She hurried out of the room, and John started stacking the pots together, listening to the floorboards creaking overhead as she gathered her things together. She popped her head in to let him know she was going, and then disappeared out of the door in a flurry. John watched her set the car going and back it out of the drive. She gave him a quick wave, and was gone, leaving him all alone with his thoughts.

* * *

He waited fifteen minutes, just to make sure she didn't unexpectedly reappear in a whirlwind, having forgotten her phone or her diary, and then returned upstairs to pick up his own mobile from where he had left it charging on his bedside cabinet the night before. He scrolled through the contacts until he came to the one he needed, pressing the call button.

It was picked up after a few moments. On the other side of the line, Robert Crawley sounded harried. "Bates?"

"Hey, Rob," he said, greeting his oldest friend with the shortened version of his name reserved for no one else. He had confessed once that he had always been Robert because anything less sounded common; in the army, Rob had been the only name he'd known. "Can you do me a favour?"

"That depends on what it is," said Robert.

"I need to take the morning off work. I'll do some work from home this afternoon rather than come into the office."

"Can I ask why? You know I don't mind doing these things for you, mate, but I've heard rumblings of discontent from Thomas Barrow. He thinks you're getting better treatment than the rest of them. Perhaps he even has a point on some levels. But I cannot be seen to be giving you better privileges than everyone else."

"I understand that," said John. "Can't you say that I have a doctor's appointment? A dentist appointment? A hospital appointment with my mother?"

"All lies. I'm not prepared to lie without good reason. So tell me what this is all about."

John sighed, running his hand through his hair. For someone who was Robert's right hand man, it was difficult to catch a break, no matter what others in the company seemed to think. And, to be completely fair to himself, he often imposed stricter regulations on himself than anyone else, for he _especially_ didn't want anyone thinking that he could curry favours with the boss simply because he had saved his life at one time. For all of his bitter griping, Thomas called in more favours than John had ever done.

But this was important. He would not allow anything to get in the way of today.

"I need to take time out to set some things up." He paused, wondering how much he should really say, but Robert was his best friend, and he could prove to be useful to have onside despite the added pressure that he would invariably feel. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to propose to Anna tonight." There was an audible thunk on the other end of the line, and he questioned, "Rob? Rob?"

"Here, mate," came the breathless reply a few seconds later. "Sorry, I dropped the phone in shock. You're going to propose? Bloody _hell_! That's been a long time coming, hasn't it?"

The Crawleys had collectively been trying to push him towards it for some time now. Along with his mother, they had been a formidable force. John had never been opposed to the thought of marriage, but nor had he wanted to rush into it. Not after the last disaster. His relationship with Anna was vastly different to the one he had had with Vera, so he knew that marriage could only follow the same pattern, but still, he had been left burned by it and hadn't been quite so eager to dreg up those feelings again. Anna had never shown an overt interest in marriage either, seemingly content with the living arrangements.

But now it was time. They'd been living together for nearly two years. Every time a piece of mail slipped through the door addressed to _Miss A. Smith_ , his heart contracted in his chest. He wanted it to read _Mrs. A Bates_ , to see those stark black letters and know that they truly belonged to one another. They wanted children at some point. He wanted them to be a proper family then, not separated by surnames.

More than that, he loved her. He wanted them to be married because he was so utterly in love with her. There could never be anyone else for him.

"It feels right now," he said. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately. It might feel spur-of-the-moment, but today is the right day to do it."

"Special occasion, is it?"

John rolled his eyes, even though Robert couldn't see. "The anniversary of the day we first met."

"You really are an old romantic, aren't you? She'll love that."

"So, do I have permission to take the time?"

"You do for this. And I need details. What are you planning? You know, it's one of the most special moments of a woman's life. It needs to be memorable."

No pressure there, then. Not that Robert was the one to give advice on that. "Didn't you turn up to one of your mother's ladies lunches and propose to Cora half-drunk?"

"I'd just had a few whiskeys, no big deal," said Robert defensively. "And that's a low blow."

"You're right. Sorry." It was only by accident that he knew the truth of that night, anyway; Robert had told him all about it on a night out with the army boys before their deportation, drunk and miserably explaining how Cora had looked mortified rather than overjoyed because of the surroundings, and hadn't answered for a week. "I'm taking her to the Netherby tonight. It was where we went on our first date. I thought it might be a nice idea to remind her of our firsts as we take this step into the future. Assuming she says yes, of course."

"It's a nice idea," said Robert, his tone softening in the static. "And don't be stupid. Of course she'll say yes. I've never seen a woman love a man like she loves you."

Hearing things like that always made John glow. On first sight, people often thought them mismatched, because of the age difference, because of Anna's beauty against his plainness. When others looked past all that and saw the beating hearts at their cores, well, it made things perfect.

"I'll let you know how I get on."

"Do. And let me know if you need anything else. You have got a ring, haven't you?"

"It's been hidden in my tie drawer for a month."

"Good man. Speak soon."

Robert rang off, and John slipped his phone into his dressing gown pocket. He had some work to do.

* * *

After showering, John filched out the packet of cigarettes he kept hidden in one of the pockets on one of the many suit jackets he owned. Finding a lighter, he took them downstairs and into the garden. He didn't smoke nearly as much as he had when he had first met Anna, down on his luck and depressed, but it was a habit he hadn't quite been able to kick. It was also one that Anna didn't approve of, so he was careful to never smoke inside the house. She had a nose like a bloodhound. But he felt like this situation merited something to calm his nerves. He took a deep drag as he seated himself at the table they had on their little patio, letting the cool April air settle over his skin and soothe him. He hit Google for the Netherby's phone number, then called it up. A smooth, cultivated voice answered, an accent so posh that it surely had to be adopted for the role. He went through the perfunctory greeting, asking how he could be of service. John cleared his throat.

"I'd like to book a table for tonight, please," he said.

He could hear the rustling of pages in the background. "We're very full tonight. We have a large party dining with us. Party of bankers." He sounded smug, like he knew that the tips would come rolling in.

John kept his temper. "Surely there must be something? A table for two, around half past seven?"

More rustling. "I'm not sure that we can accommodate, sir."

Prick. John assumed his most pleasant voice. "Oh, never mind, then. I'll head back down to London early. I'm sure that Francois will find me something at the Ritz. He can usually fit me in."

The tone in the man's voice changed implicitly. "The Ritz?" He was trying to sound scathing, but it wasn't quite working.

"Yes, that's right," John confirmed agreeably. "I go back a long way with Francois. He's the manager, you know. We met a long time ago through Robert Crawley and simply hit it off." _That_ was a name he was sure the man would recognise; the Crawleys were synonymous in town. "Anyway, not to worry. I'll get something sorted. Francois will probably be at work now. He's a workaholic, you know. I said to him once, he'd sleep there if he could…"

Before he could sign off, the man said, "Perhaps I could do some shuffling around."

John smirked. Bingo. Trying to keep his voice suitably blasé, he said, "Oh?"

"If it's just a table for two, I'm sure we can find something. It's a long way to go back to London for a meal at the Ritz." He tittered, a slimy sound. "And I can assure you, our food is just as good."

"I've dined before," said John. "I'm well aware of the quality of the food." He waited patiently for a few heartbeats. "So, is there anything?"

"There is a space," he said. "Half past seven, you said?"

"That would be good. I'll be popping in soon, if it's all been arranged."

"What on earth do you need to pop in for?" The man's voice changed again, taking on that condescending, biting edge.

"It's a special occasion," said John. "I hope to make my girlfriend my fiancée. I would like to ensure that everything is going to be perfect. Unless it's too much of an inconvenience, of course. If so, I can hold off. I know that Francois would help me out."

"Very well, sir, if you insist," said the man, and there was a definite sharpness to his tone now. "I shall be happy to meet with you. What time can you be expected?"

"Oh, early. I've some business with Robert Crawley later. Who should I ask for?"

"My name is Simon."

"Simon. Excellent. I'll see you soon."

With a flourish, John ended the call. Tosser. The conversation had soured his intentions. He and Anna had had a nice time the first time he had secured them a table there, but now he knew what elitist, snobbish people staffed the place. Now he was less inclined to give them his business, and especially on what he hoped would be a wonderful, intimate, joyful evening for them to remember for the rest of their lives. Well, he wouldn't tell Anna about the trouble. She didn't deserve to have this tainted in any way. Just let Simon try and ruin anything else about this day.

Brooding, John stretched out his right leg beneath the table, leaning back as he smoked his cigarette right down to the butt. He needed to put that conversation out of his mind now, focus on what was really important. Which was Anna, and the details of what he was about to do. He had it meticulously planned in his head. All it needed was simple execution.

The first thing he needed was flowers. A wildflower bouquet. He knew he could get one of those made up at the local florist's. Wildflowers were Anna's favourite. She had never been one for following the conventional path, he had found, and her taste in flowers was no exception. She'd confessed that she loved them for that wildness, because it meant that they were free to grow as they pleased, and there was something unconventionally beautiful about them, rough and rugged. John suspected that she was alluding to more than just the flowers in that description; after all, he was far from the match that many people had expected Anna to make.

So, flowers. He would leave the flowers at the Netherby, with instructions that they be brought out during dessert. He would keep the ring with him, but would pass it on during the main course so that it could be nestled within the bouquet. She'd see it there, look up from the flowers, and catch sight of him on one knee in front of her, waiting to ask the question that had been on his lips for a lifetime.

That was the theory, anyway. Would it be a good enough proposal? God, he hoped so.

Taking one last drag on his cigarette, he moved to run it under the outside tap to ensure that it was fully out before throwing it in the bin. Judging by the quivering in his stomach, he had a feeling that he would be smoking a few more before the evening came around.

* * *

He forced himself to eat another slice of toast before heading out of the door towards the florist's. It was run by old Bill Molesley. His face broke into a smile when he saw John.

"Hello," he greeted. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'd like a bouquet of the nicest wildflowers you can put together," said John. "Price isn't an issue. I want it to look perfect."

"Special occasion, is it?"

He didn't quite feel comfortable telling the whole world his business, at least not right now; he didn't want to tempt fate _too_ boldly. So he settled for carefully saying, "They're for Anna. Just wanted to do something nice for her."

"Well, it's nice, all right. How is the lass?"

"She's very well, thank you."

"Joseph often talks about her."

"Does he?" John couldn't help the sharp pang of jealousy. Joseph Molesley, Bill's only son, worked at the same school that Anna did, a history teacher. As the handyman, privy to all kinds of scandals from both the teachers and the pupils, it hadn't taken him long to work out that Joseph had fancied Anna a hell of a lot. He'd followed her round like a puppy called to heel, eager to impress her in any way he could manage. He hadn't seen Joseph as worthy of her, but he himself had been far, far beyond anything that Anna had deserved. In his head, he'd tortured himself with endless possibilities: of Molesley breaking her down with his endearing awkwardness; of her accepting his invitation to dinner; of him shyly slipping his hand into hers; of her turning her head for a goodnight kiss on the mouth; of her perhaps inviting him in for a coffee that had nothing to do with the actual drink and everything to do with an invitation to her bed.

It hadn't panned out that way, of course. In the first year of getting to know her, she had proven to be a wonderful friend, and now that his ego could allow it, she had clearly much preferred his company to her bumbling colleague's.

And, in the July after his first year at the school, at a staff gathering at a high-end social club in Leeds to celebrate the end of another school year, she had taken him outside and kissed him senseless.

He had tried to resist at first. Or, rather, he had wanted to. He knew a thousand reasons why they shouldn't have been together. His crippling injury in the war, his vengeful ex-wife, his previous battles with alcoholism, all of those were but a few of the barriers in his way to ever being happy again. But Anna had never been one to take no for an answer and, bit by bit, she had cracked through his every defence, until he was raw and pulsing beneath her, able to survive only by being with her.

Their relationship had flourished from there, growing into something beyond anything that John could ever have imagined. It had only grown stronger when he had been offered the position in Robert's company, his best friend shuffling everything around so that he could fulfil his potential there, and John suspected, make himself feel like he was giving John something back when he had taken the bullet that had been meant for him—not that there had ever been a debt there, in John's mind.

He would never count himself fully worthy of Anna, but it had been a start. And, somehow, she had seen beyond the surface of what he was, and had found something inside him that she loved with a fierce passion that boggled the mind.

Still, some of those early days had been awkward, with Joseph Molesley hanging around. Even when she had told him that she was seeing someone, it hadn't seemed to deter him. In fact, John was certain that he might even have tried to make a clumsy move despite what she'd told him if he hadn't accidentally strayed across them in town one Saturday night, sitting on a bench beneath the stars as they'd paused on their way home, enthusiastically exploring each other's mouth.

Even after that, he'd carried a torch for Anna for a long time.

Shaking himself out of his jealous thoughts, John turned back to Bill Molesley, who had started to gather flowers together to create the perfect visionary bouquet. If the old man had noticed that his mind had wandered, then he didn't voice it.

"Not enough men buy flowers for their special girls I've found, nowadays," he said. "They're too busy chasing the world. Sure there's no special occasion?"

"No special occasion," John lied. It would not do for Bill to speak to Joseph and for him to let slip John's true intentions before the day was out. That would be typical.

"Well, it's good to see that romance isn't completely dead," said Bill. "You know, I used to bring my wife flowers every day I walked the lane home…"

John nodded politely, but his mind drifted again. From here he would head over to the Netherby and set up the arrangements. He hoped the violin quartet would be playing tonight. They'd been there on their first date, and were still a frequent fixture to this day. Robert dined there often, and had mentioned them in passing several times, since one of the members was a friend of Rose's. That would certainly set a nice, romantic backdrop.

Eventually, Bill straightened up.

"Here you go," he announced.

"Thank you so much," said John gratefully, digging in his pocket for his wallet. "They're spectacular." They really, really were. "Anna will love them."

"Glad to hear it."

They settled the bill, and John took the huge bouquet back out onto the street. He arranged it carefully in his car so that none of the delicate petals were squashed, and refused to drive any faster than twenty miles an hour in case some disaster should befall them at speed.

* * *

The Netherby didn't open to the general public until dinnertime, and even then nine times out of ten it only catered to the wealthy clientele. It had almost wiped John out of a week's worth of wages to take Anna there that first time. It had been money very well spent, but he was not delusional. He'd had to forsake some of his favourite luxuries until the next payday to ensure that he had enough to cover the more pressing of his financial obligations; the kind of money spent here was but a drop in a vast ocean to the usual customers.

None of that mattered tonight. He'd been putting money by for this occasion especially, and Anna would be treated like royalty.

He limped up the steps to the impressive entrance. Situated in a grand old building from some time in the nineteenth century, it looked the very picture of old money. He rapped on the antique door and shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting for someone to answer it.

At last, a thin man did appear. He had his hair slicked back like some slimy butler from the previous century, and his smile matched with its smarminess.

"Can I help you?" he asked, raking his eyes over John's attire, lingering without shame on the cane that he leaned heavily against. John made a point of shifting it to hook over his left wrist so that he could hold out his hand.

"Simon, I presume?" he said. Tosser, he thought again. "I'm John Bates. I spoke to you on the phone about procuring a table for this evening."

Simon's mouth fell open. "You're the gentleman I spoke to, are you? Well, I was expecting something…different."

John knew exactly what he'd been expecting. Someone dressed in a business suit costing thousands, with fifty pound notes spilling out of his fat wallet when he opened it. In short, his fabricated story had led him to believe that he was some kind of celebrity, not an ordinary bloke with a disability.

"May I come in?" he said pleasantly when Simon made no move. "It's a bit chilly out here."

Reluctantly, Simon moved to the side, and John limped past him. It really was a beautiful place, with a high vaulted roof and ornate, Victorian furniture.

"What's that?" Simon asked dubiously as he eyed the bouquet of flowers.

"Not for you," said John cheerfully. "I was hoping I could leave them somewhere here."

Simon spluttered. "This isn't some kind of dumping ground, sir."

"I don't want to dump them. I want them hidden here for my girlfriend. Do you know who will be on duty tonight?"

"I will be," said Simon grudgingly.

"Excellent. I'll need them bringing out during dessert. I have a ring, which I'll slip you at some point during the evening so that you can affix it securely to the bouquet. Does the violin quartet still play here?"

"Of course."

"Then would it be possible to communicate to them to play something soft and romantic at the crucial moment? Anna's always liked Beethoven. You can't really go wrong there, can you?"

"I'm afraid I simply cannot allow you to come in here and dictate the terms of how we run things this evening."

No, thought John resentfully, but if he'd been the millionaire that this man had been imagining he was sure that none of it would have been a problem. Still, it would not do him any good to lose his temper. So he mustered the most pleasant smile that he could and said, "Well, those details can be ironed out later. The flowers are the most important thing right now."

Simon took them reluctantly, as if they contained some deadly infection that might get into his bloodstream through his nose. "I'll put them in water for you and leave them in one of the store cupboards that's no longer in use."

"Thank you," he said. There was nothing more to add, so he turned back in the direction of the entrance, feeling the man's eyes burning into his back all the way.

Once back out on the street, he lit another cigarette and limped back towards his car. He'd done as much as he could for now. It was time that he headed back home to make a start on the day's work.

He wasn't sure how much he would get done with his mind straying back to what was come in the evening every few seconds.

* * *

He spent an afternoon trying to concentrate on one of his editing projects, but his concentration was woefully lax. He spent more time traipsing between the kitchen for a fresh cup of tea and a sneaky cigarette outside. He'd had more in one day than he'd smoked in the past three weeks. Anxiety had never been a good factor in his life.

He was just attempting to finish only his fifth page of editing when his message tone went off. He delved beneath the explosion of papers for his phone, swiping the screen to unlock it, his eyes lingering briefly on the snap of him and Anna that served as his screensaver, a selfie she'd taken when they'd spent a long weekend in Paris.

It was a message from Anna. He opened it.

 _Something's come up at work_ , he read. _Can you meet me?_

 _At work?_ He typed. _When?_

 _Yes, at work. When school is done. I need help with something. The handyman has gone home ill, and you're the only strong, handsome man I know who might be able to help a woman out._

 _We're still on for dinner, right?_

 _I should think so._

John frowned at the screen. What was that supposed to mean? Had he forgotten about something he shouldn't? A parents' evening, perhaps? Or some kind of open evening? Those things could drag on for hours. Perhaps he'd be cancelling dinner after all. Shit, that was no good. His carefully planned proposal would be ruined.

 _I'll see you at three thirty_ , he wrote, then pushed his phone to one side with a curse. Was fate determined to stop him from proposing?

* * *

True to his word, three thirty found John pulling up alongside Anna's car in the staff carpark. He wasn't technically staff, but he figured that he should have some perks when dating a teacher.

Children were still milling about as he walked towards the main building, either waiting for their parents or the public buses that filled the yard. He garnered a few glances, with his cane and his limp. He tried to ignore them.

Anna was standing by the main entrance, shielding her eyes against the low afternoon sun. She gave him a slightly lopsided smile as he approached, stepping forward to greet him.

"Hey, you," she said softly. Usually she refrained from any public displays of affection around her place of work, but today she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her head against his chest. Nice as it was, it disconcerted him.

"Everything all right?" he questioned, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of her head. His heart had started to pick up speed.

She pulled back slightly, tilting her head back so she could look him in the face. She was quiet for an alarming amount of time, staring at him as if she would never see him again.

"Anna?" he prompted, uncomfortable.

She seemed to come back to herself.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I've missed you today."

This struck him as odd; she'd said those words before, but never quite with that expression on her face. Something must have happened to provoke it. He was worried now. However, before he could question her further, there was a shout.

"Oi, oi, Miss, what's all this?"

They broke apart completely, the strangely vulnerable look on Anna's face disappearing as she pulled her professional mask back on. A group of lads stood a short distance away, all rebelliously untucked shirts and loosened ties, their hairs styled in various trendy cuts. They looked to be about seventeen. The leader, the one who had shouted, ran his fingers through his spiky locks and shouted again.

"No snogging on school property, Miss, that's what we keep getting told!"

"Since when have you ever listened to that, Dane?" Anna shot back good-naturedly. "Besides, this was nothing but a friendly hug."

The lads laughed and wolf-whistled, clearly finding some stupid innuendo there. John scowled. Bloody horny teenage boys. Anna seemed to find it more amusing than offensive, however, shaking her head.

"Thought you had a boyfriend, Miss?" the lad, Dane, continued.

"You're looking at him," she said.

There was no denying the surprise in the boys' faces; they'd clearly been expecting something different. Probably a gym buff, someone much younger. Most people tended to share that surprise when they realised that he was Anna's boyfriend. He straightened up to his full height as if he was on parade, giving his best imperious look, perfected from the army. The other boys quailed a little, but the one called Dane only grinned cheerfully.

"Right," he said. "Cool. Well, anytime you think you want some younger meat, Miss…"

"You ain't got a chance, mate," said one of the other lads. "She's way out of your league. Too fit for you."

"Too fit for him, too," said Dane with a cocky grin.

"Yeah, but Miss Smith said he'd been in the army. Have you been in the army?"

"Yes," said John. "Invalided out when the bullet went through the knee."

"See? You can't compete with a war hero!"

"Ah, Miss, you know I'm only messing with you," said Dane. "I get it, you like 'em older. My broken heart will have to learn to survive."

"Oh, I'm sure you won't be broken hearted for long," said Anna, and Dane laughed boisterously, the laugh of a boy who enjoyed a lot of female attention.

"G'night, Miss," he said, turning away. "C'mon, lads. Football in the park, yeah?" He'd lit a cigarette before they'd even got off the school grounds.

Anna shook her head again. "That boy," she said fondly.

"Bit of a ruffian, is he?"

"Rough diamond. Likes to play up to the attention, but he's not a bad lad. Heart of gold. Bit of a heartthrob."

"I can see that."

"Don't tell me you're jealous. That's the most stupid thing you could ever be. He's a child."

"Yes, I know all about a horny young boy's needs."

She shot him a sideways look, her grin crooked with her amusement. "You do, do you? You had a teacher you liked to fantasise about?"

John flushed, folding his arms. "Don't be ridiculous. I just meant that he says some things that are a bit close to the bone. It's practically borderline harassment." His eyes widened when the words sank in. "Wait, do you think he fantasises about you?"

"I'd really rather not know," she said, then added, after a heartbeat, a mischievous grin pulling her lips wider, "But I know what _I_ was like at that age. Mr. Wirth, my English teacher, he was to die for. So beautiful. Dark hair, stubble, gorgeous brown eyes, mid-thirties…I've always liked them older." She bumped her shoulder against his gently. "Anyway, you're just being silly. You don't know him. Honestly, he's just playing the fool. It makes the others laugh. When he talks to you one on one, he's very polite. He'll mellow in time. Come on, don't stand there pretending that there wasn't one teacher that you didn't have a thing for."

"All mine were matronly," he said as she led him inside. "Nothing the least bit sexy about them. They wore clothes that my grandmother might have worn, and they looked even worse. I swear one of them had a moustache."

Anna snorted, shaking her head. "Well, I'm sure you amused yourself with other female attention."

It was probably best not to answer that. He huffed to let her know that he didn't find her amusing, before changing the subject. "What is it you need help with?"

"You'll see when we get there," was all she would say. All trace of her earlier odd mood had disappeared. He wondered what had brought it on, and how to probe her on the subject. Confused, he followed her down the long, old corridors, until they came to a stop outsider her classroom. It looked as tired as ever—the school was constantly talking about modernising yet never seemed to get around to actually doing it—but Anna had tried to spice it up. Cheerful fresh flowers stood in the windowsills. Quotes from Shakespeare and other famous authors adorned the walls. She'd dedicated one section of the classroom to anonymous book reviews, where students could post their thoughts on what they were reading in a box for Anna to stick up. She'd said that initially it had been met with immaturity, the anonymity meaning that she frequently had to throw out entries like, _I like Playboy, not for the words but for the fantastic tits_ ; puerile boys at their worst. But, gradually, the idea had flourished with perseverance, and now students clamoured round to see if there were any recommendations that took their fancy. That was one of the many things John loved about Anna. Her patience and desire to make school better for everyone was a real asset. He knew that she had the respect of the students because she respected them in turn.

"What is it that you need help with?" he asked. "Lifting one of the tables?"

Anna shook her head. "It's in the cupboard over there. I think there's something wrong with one of the pipes."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "The pipes? I don't think I ought to start messing with the plumbing, you know that as well as I do. What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said. "Just…will you please take a look?"

John sighed. "If you really need me to, though I'll be honest, I don't feel comfortable doing it when it's not my place to do so. Couldn't this have waited until the handyman comes back?"

"I don't know how long he'll be off. And you were always so good at this. I know you won't screw anything up."

"I'll need tools," he pointed out, capitulating without rolling his eyes with the greatest of efforts. This was absurd. He cast a surreptitious glance at his watch. He would have to keep his eye on the time if they were going to make it home in time to get to dinner. The tiny ring box felt like a boulder in his pocket, reminding him of his responsibilities.

Anna brought him a toolbox with lightning quick speed. Almost too quickly. He frowned, but didn't say anything—the quicker, the better, he supposed—lowering himself to his knees with a sore groan. The war wound had never liked him doing this. He stuck his head and shoulders into the cupboard she had emptied in advance. It was a very tight squeeze. "All right, what seems to be the problem?" He hoped she could hear his muffled voice.

"The pipes keep creaking," she said vaguely. He heard her clattering about behind him.

"This building is like a thousand years old. There's nothing out of the ordinary about creaking pipes."

"Oh. Maybe I was mistaken, then."

"Bloody hell, Anna," he said, trying to wriggle free. "Are you deliberately trying to be irritating? Is there anything you really need help with? In case you've forgotten, we've got dinner reservations at the Netherby…" His voice trailed off. Something was different. She'd closed the blinds, leaving no one able to see inside. He'd wager that she'd locked the door, too. He gulped. Surely she wasn't planning a forbidden assignation? True, they'd done it before, in his office after hours, but his office was quite different to a bloody school.

That strange look was back in her eyes. "It's the anniversary of the day we met today."

"Yes, I know. I hadn't forgotten."

"It was in this very classroom, do you remember?"

"Yes—"

"You were down there, as you were now."

And suddenly, realisation hit. She was recreating the circumstances under which they had first met.

"You were trying to fix the burst pipe," she continued needlessly, for he understood now. "All I could see was your backside sticking out of that cupboard. It was the first impression I ever had of you."

"And what a first impression that was," he said sardonically. "I'm still astounded you didn't run for the hills."

"You've got a superb backside," said Anna matter-of-factly. "It did cross my mind to say something, but I didn't think it was the best conversation opener."

"It would have soothed my ego, though," he said. "I wasn't accustomed to having attention from young women." He softened his tone with a smile, taking in the lovely sight of her. "I have to say, I did like your greeting."

She snorted. "Very original. _'Hello, I'm Anna Smith. This is my classroom. Are you going to be long? Only I have a class in ten minutes'_. Something to that effect. You must have thought me a bit stuck up, trying to hurry you along while you were trying to save my classroom from a flood."

"You weren't rude. You were charming, very apologetic. I said that I wouldn't be done in time, and you had to take your class next door, but you still hung around to chat for those ten minutes. And then you brought me tea and biscuits at break time. It was the start of us."

There were tears in Anna's eyes as she looked at him. "I think that was the moment my life truly started. Everything that had happened in the past…all of it fell away when you became my friend. And then I was lucky enough for you to not only be my best friend, but my lover too." She took a deep breath. "Which leads me to my next point."

John leaned his weight against his cane, sensing that her next words were important.

His heart leapt up to lodge itself within his throat as she slowly started to lower herself to the floor. Now the locked door, the closed blinds, made perfect sense.

"Anna—" he started.

"Don't speak," she interrupted. "Just listen." Her cheeks had gone bright pink, but there was no mistaking the determination in her voice.

Trembling, John backed himself up against the cupboard, not entirely certain that he could keep supporting his own weight. Jesus. _Jesus…_

Anna's fingers were shaking wildly; it took her several tries to ease the little box in her cardigan pocket out into his line of vision. He swallowed hard. Christ.

"My life changed forever in this room, five years ago," she said. "I couldn't have imagined then where we would end up, but I have never been more grateful for anything. You know me better than anyone else in the world. You know the deepest secrets in my heart, you know all of my skeletons in the closet, you weren't even put off when you realised that I like to steal the quilt at night. No one has ever made me feel the way that you do, and I know I could search the world over and I wouldn't find anyone that could make me feel it again. You've been my boyfriend, but I want you to be so much more than that. I want you to be my husband. I want to wake every day beside you sharing your name as well as your bed. I want us to build the life together that we have talked about so many times. John Bates, will you make me the happiest woman alive by agreeing to be my husband?"

Her trembling fingers prised open the box she was holding, revealing an ornate gold ring, with one tiny diamond set deep within the curve of the band. For a moment, all John could do was gawp at the sight in front of him, of Anna, pink-cheeked on one knee, her blue eyes burning bright, her blonde hair falling just slightly into her face. He had never seen her looking more beautiful. He had never loved her more.

"John? Are you going to give me an answer? I'm feeling a little bit uncomfortable here on the floor."

He barked a wet chuckle, feeling the tears spill from his eyes. He brushed them away roughly, lowering himself with painstaking and painful effort to the carpet. His knee protested, but he ignored it, reaching out to cup Anna's cheek in his palm. His other moved to the back of her head, angling her face up to him. He drank in the sight of her for a moment longer, the rose colour in the apple of her cheeks, those shining blue eyes, the gold curls of her hair, her face expression so open. Loving. Devoted. He brought his mouth to hers, kissing her with soft reverence. She was marvellous.

Anna pulled back after a few seconds. "You know, nice as this is, you still haven't given me an answer. I'm not a mind reader, Mr. Bates. For all I know, that was a kiss of consolation because you're going to reject me. You can be a difficult man to work out."

He laughed, more tears spilling, much to his embarrassment. "I would be mad to do that. God, Anna, yes, I'll marry you. There's nothing I want more."

The tiny amount of tension held in her body melted away completely at his acceptance. Laughing herself now, she wound her arms around him and kissed him senseless. He was enjoying it far too much to stop her.

But, eventually, she eased away.

"Let's get up," she murmured. "I think I've done my knees in."

"We'll have matching limps," he said good-naturedly as she used the side of a table to heave herself to her feet and then offered her hand to him to help him up. Once he was back to his full height, she threw her arms back around his neck and resumed the enthusiastic kissing that she had broken off. He allowed his hands to roam over the curve of her backside as he pulled her closer. He was her fiancé now.

At the thought of the word, so utterly, utterly glorious, he put some distance between them. She pouted. He could only grin, wider than he probably ever had done before, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"You bought me a ring," he said.

She looked embarrassed at that. "Yes, well, it would have felt strange to propose without the traditional ring, whether it's traditional for the woman to propose or not. You don't have to wear it. I know most men don't. It was just a little token gift, a memory."

"When it comes to you, Anna Smith," he murmured, "I would do whatever you wanted. It's not something I expected, but I rather like the idea of everyone knowing that I am someone's fiancé." He held out his left hand to her. "Go on, make it official."

He knew he'd made the right choice when Anna's face split into the widest grin he had ever seen. Delighted, she fumbled with the ring, managing to get it out of the box, and held it over his ring finger. The touch of that cool metal sent an electric charge through him.

"I hope it fits," she said. "I had to guess the size."

"It can always be altered if not," he said thickly. He watched as she eased the ring on, her small fingers brushing against his as they worked it down over his first joint. It was a little bit snug, but not uncomfortably so. He could certainly live with it until the weekend, when he'd be able to get to the jewellers. The new weight and pinch felt strange against him, and he couldn't wait to slowly become accustomed to it. "There, look, it's almost perfect. You're good at guessing."

"I know your hands well," she said, and he leaned down to kiss her. Pecking at her lips one more time, he pulled back. She opened her eyes slowly, a little crease on her forehead. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Funny story, really," he said casually, moving to his own pocket. "You know the saying about great minds?"

"Yes?" she said.

"They really do think alike."

He withdrew the small ring box from his pocket, and Anna's gasp rang out through the classroom as her hands flew up to cover her mouth. Tears had sprung to her own eyes. He let her look at the ring, hoping that she liked his choice. He'd chosen a simple gold band with three deep blue sapphires, liking blue because it reminded him of her eyes. It was expensive but not ostentatious, because she deplored showiness—something which often amused him, since Mary Crawley, her best friend, was the showiest person he knew.

"I had it all planned out," he continued. "Dinner at the place where we had our first date. Your favourite flowers. Pretty music in the background. Your face by lamplight, me down on one knee before you, not caring that it was painful because you were going to agree to marry me…"

"So you were hoping," she said tartly.

"So I was hoping."

Her face softened back into overwhelmed wonder. "You were…you were going to propose tonight?"

"I was. The anniversary of the day we met. But someone else slipped in first."

She giggled. "It sounds like it would have been so perfect, though. Did you have a speech planned?"

"I had a few things in mind, but nothing really concrete. Why, do you want to hear it?"

"No, that's okay. I'm sure it would have been lovely."

"There would have been lots of reference to love and how I don't deserve you."

"None of that, please. Self-deprecation has no place in a proposal."

He chuckled. "May I give you _your_ ring?"

"You may," she said, her eyes sparkling. Gently, he took her left hand in both of his, guiding the gold band over her finger. It fit perfectly.

"I took one of your other rings to get it fitted to size," he confessed.

"The emerald one? And you let me think I'd lost it!"

"It turned up again, didn't it?" he said good-naturedly. "No real harm done."

"No, just me panicking for a full week thinking that I'd dropped it somewhere. You silly beggar."

"Yes, yours," he said, leaping at the opportunity to change the subject. "I love you, soon-to-be-Mrs. Bates."

"I love you too," she replied, with more emotion than he had ever heard. With that, they drifted naturally together again, revelling in their new status.

* * *

It was torture to separate, but they had brought different cars. It took them several long, lingering kisses to part with the promise of meeting up at home. It was a good thing that nearly everyone else had gone home. They would have been treated to quite the display otherwise.

Anna was the first to leave, and was waiting impatiently for him by the front door when he pulled up behind her on the drive.

"Come on!" she said when she saw him.

"You didn't need to stay there in the cold," he argued playfully. "You could have gone inside."

"Yes, well, I thought it might be a nice idea to go in together. You know, as a warm up to what will happen after the wedding. Though I don't want you to carry me over the threshold just yet."

He chuckled. "If you say so. Come on, then."

It was too difficult to pass through the doorway at the same time, given John's broadness, but they held hands and stepped in one after the other, laughing all the while. Before Anna, John had never been one to be overly frivolous. She had shown him a whole side of himself that he hadn't realised he even possessed. Today he felt particularly giddy. _He and Anna were going to get married_.

In the hall, Anna shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the coat stand.

"What time is it?" she asked breathlessly.

John checked his watch. "Half past four. We've got plenty of time before we need to go out to dinner."

"We do," said Anna with mock-thoughtfulness. "I wonder what we can do to pass the time?"

"I was thinking of making a start on getting ready."

She scoffed. "We don't need all that time. We've got at least half an hour to ourselves before we need to shower."

"So you're proposing…?" John let his voice tail off suggestively as she sidled up to him, running her palms over his chest.

"I've done that bit," she shot back, deliberately misinterpreting him. "Now, come here, Mr. Bates."

"What for?" he said, then hissed as her hands drifted to his belt, her meaning plain. In the next moment he had closed the gap between them, crushing her mouth beneath his own, relishing the way she gasped and started to fumble faster.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," he murmured between kisses.

"Don't you dare," she panted. "I'll not have you damaging your knee over some silly folly."

"I can manage," he protested.

"You can manage something far more important than that," she retorted, tugging on his tie. "Now, come on, follow me."

He was helpless to resist her. She led him to the foot of the stairs, climbing the first two so they were on a similar level; without the heels on her shoes, there was an even larger height discrepancy between them. Without further ado, she kissed him again, taking his breath away. Somehow, they managed to stagger their way up to the bedroom, laughing whenever one of them stumbled, the other quick to smother the sound.

In the bedroom, Anna began to tug urgently on his clothes. He let her undress him, dipping in to distract her with a kiss every so often. When he was bare from the waist up, he ran his hands pointedly over her clothed form.

"Fair is fair," he murmured.

"Fair is fair," she agreed happily.

* * *

There was something different about it today. They had made love a thousand times over, but it had never been quite like this. There was a new intimacy about it, a bond forged by the things that had passed between them. If it was this overwhelming to make love to his fiancée, he could only imagine what it would be like to make love to his wife.

He held himself above her, most of his weight on his left side so he didn't crush her, cupping her cheek in his right hand, kissing her breathless. Anna was emitting needy little sounds that were doing nothing to abate how much he wanted her; there was hot, tingling heat where they were joined. But, for a few moments, he wanted to savour this.

Those moments were fleeting. Soon, it was all too much to resist, and he was drowning in her, in the gasps and nonsense words that she produced, in the passionate dig of her nails, in that warm band of metal against his skin.

* * *

Afterwards, John sank down beside her. Anna's breaths were raw and ragged in his ear. She was still trembling with the aftermath of the pleasure he had brought her. He hooked his arm around her waist, not caring that they were both uncomfortably sticky with sweat.

"Are you all right?" he murmured.

She nodded, drawing closer to kiss him again, so tender and loving. Their lovemaking transcended the physical; there was nothing Anna loved more than snuggling in the afterglow, the both of them pumped with endorphins, so happy and content. In that golden pocket of time, they shared intimate conversation, tender touches, adoring kisses, always skin to skin. It had never been that way with Vera. They had done their business. The moment it was over, they had rolled away from each other, a gulf between them in the small, grotty bed. Usually, Vera had been asleep within minutes, but on the occasions when her snores didn't fill that tired old room, the silence spoke a thousand words. They had been two broken individuals, trying to find a way to fix themselves together. Even in those moments of disengaged sex, they could not force themselves to be anything more than they were. Those ten, twenty minutes was the closet they ever came to making themselves work, dysfunctional in its own twisted way of trying. It could never have been what he had now with Anna, she who understood every dark and damaged crevice of his soul.

He pulled his thoughts away from his ex-wife. He did not need to recall her, not now, not when he had his Anna, soon to be his wife, his true love. He nuzzled against her, loving the slide of their skin against each other.

"My fiancée," he murmured in her ear, making her giggle.

"That was very nice," she purred. "I don't think I've ever enjoyed myself quite so much."

"It must be something about truly being promised to one another," he mused.

"A powerful aphrodisiac," she agreed. She was silent for a moment, then offered, Thank you for agreeing to marry me."

"Thank _you_ ," he murmured. "Thank you for standing by me, and for loving me when I thought I was past it."

"You're welcome," she said softly. "But I'm as lucky to have you, even if you won't admit it."

He would never agree with that, but he didn't want to spoil this moment. Instead, he asked, "Do you mind me asking, what made you propose?"

"Of course I don't mind." She rubbed the tip of her nose against his, mulling it over. "I suppose I just thought I'd take a chance. I knew this was it for me, and I was confident that you shared the sentiment. It's been on my mind for a long time, if I'm honest. We've never really talked about marriage, and I suppose I wasn't quite certain where you stood on the whole matter. I had no idea that you were planning to propose, otherwise I would have probably held off."

"I'm glad you did. I liked it." He smirked at her. "I think it fits, you taking charge, a strong, independent woman knowing exactly what she needs to do to get what she wants…"

"Silly beggar," she said, swatting his chest lightly. "I didn't want to wait until Leap Year to ask, and I knew that I had to take a chance. If you'd turned me down, it would have stung, but I like to think we could have worked through it."

"I may be many things, but I'm not mad. And I would have had to have been stark raving to turn you down, Anna."

"Yes, there is that," she teased.

"Have you…have you been giving any thoughts to what you want the wedding to be like?" he asked hesitantly. Was there supposed to be a period of time where they simply enjoyed this new element to their relationship before they started discussing the next great adventure? On the other hand, she'd said that she'd been thinking about it for a long time, so surely that meant she had given the actual wedding some thought…?

Anna beamed, quelling his fears at once. "Some. I'm not sure what you were thinking, but I thought a year's engagement sounded like a suitable period of time. April is special to us because we met then, and now we've got engaged in it, so to get married in it would be lovely."

"An April wedding," he mused. "When spring is at its most beautiful. I like it."

"And…" She paused, then pushed on. "I'm not all that keen on the idea of a church wedding."

"What?" said John, pushing himself up on an elbow so he could face her properly. "I thought you'd like that."

She shrugged. "You're not religious, though."

"It's your day as much as mine. I'd marry you anywhere. On the moon if that was what you wanted."

She snorted. "I _don't_ want that; that sounds terrible." She stretched her arms above her head, and he watched the thrust of her breasts with interest. "I won't lie, I like the _idea_ of a church wedding. But in reality, there's so much rigmarole. We'd have to read the banns and fill the whole place with people clamouring to share our special day. Acquaintances of acquaintances to make up the numbers. Accepting blessings from people we're not sure come from your side or mine. That's not really us, is it? We like privacy. We could have a simple ceremony surrounded by the people who mean the most to us in the world. Robert and Cora, Mary and Matthew, Sybil and Tom, Edith and Anthony, Gwen and Ethel, Mrs. Hughes, your mother…" Her jaw worked. "My mum, I suppose. On the condition that Richard stays a hundred miles away. And I'd invite Kate and her boyfriend."

John knew that Anna had had a difficult relationship with her family from being a young teenager, and his stomach clenched at the reason why. Richard had better hope that their paths never crossed. There was nothing he'd enjoy more than showing that sick bastard what it was like to be terrified and alone with someone who could cause so much damage.

He was polluting their bedroom with those thoughts. He pulled himself back to Anna's light. She was frowning. He lowered himself back down beside her, half-covering her nakedness with his own. "Have you given any thoughts to the venue?"

"Have you?" she said.

"I'm interested in hearing your thoughts," he said, determined to keep her mind away from a much more helpless time. The shy look on her face told him she _had_ mulled it over.

"Ripon is near Downton," she said. "It's the nearest place to here with a registry office. I thought it might be a nice idea to get married nearby when Downton means so much to us. What do you think?"

"I think I love it," he told her firmly. This truly was the place where he had been given a second chance at life after being invalided out of the army, no longer fit for purpose, drinking himself into a stupor every day until one moment of realisation had shocked him into the painful process of changing his whole life. Moving up here had been his final lifeline, and it had proven to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. He could think of no better way of marking it than by marrying the woman of his dreams in the next town over from where it had all started.

"Good," Anna said simply. "We can discuss the other details later. We've got a whole year to decide, after all. Right now I've got something else in mind."

"Already? That's very racy of you."

"I _am_ racy. Besides, who can blame me when it was so very good before?"

"Really?" he said, arching his eyebrow. "How interesting. I don't think you've seen anything yet."

"Oh, no, Mr. Bates," she countered, "I do believe it's _you_ who hasn't seen anything yet."

She rose, like a siren from a rippling pool, pale gold in the early evening light. Limbs stretched predatorily, and John found himself rather transfixed by her nakedness as she pushed him onto his back and settled over him, an alpha female. The grin on her face was positively sinful.

"You haven't seen anything yet," she repeated, dark words of sensual promise, and leaned down to kiss him thoroughly.

He allowed himself to be swept away with what she was doing, enjoying the way she pressed her nakedness against him. There was little he appreciated more than the feel of her taking control of him, small and slight as she was. He cupped her breast leisurely as she pulled away, relishing the sound she made as he teased her nipple with his thumb, and his gaze wandered to the bedside cabinet where the clock ticked innocently.

"Shit!"

Anna yelped as she was upended rather unceremoniously to the mattress as he scrambled out of bed.

"Whatever was that for!?" she scolded. "You could have just told me if you weren't interested, instead of throwing me off like a sack of potatoes!"

"It's not that," he huffed. "Look at the time. It's gone five thirty already. We're dining at half past seven. We need to start getting ready."

"Is dinner really so important now? I know you wanted to go there so you could propose…but that's already happened."

"We could still have a lovely meal out, though."

"We could. Or we could eat pizza, right here, completely in the nude. I know which one sounds better to me. Besides, if I'm honest, I didn't even _like_ the Netherby that much."

" _What?"_ he said. He was aware that he was standing before her without a stitch on, but that wasn't the most important thing. "How come you've never said in all these years!?"

She shrugged. "Because you were such a gentleman. You went to all that trouble to secure somewhere lovely to take me on our first date, and I didn't want to spoil anything. How could I have said that it wasn't my thing when you spent so much money and were so eager to please? I would have looked a right ungrateful cow."

"But you could have said it at any point since!"

"And have you brooding over something so trivial?"

He frowned, defeated. In all honesty, he probably _would_ have wasted time and energy berating himself for something that could no longer be changed, something that Anna probably hadn't thought twice about in all their time together.

"No wonder you were reluctant this morning," he muttered. "You don't like it. And I would have proposed there. Maybe it's best I didn't get to propose after all, if it isn't somewhere you would have enjoyed."

"Now you're being ridiculous. I shouldn't have cared one bit where we were when you proposed. You could have done it in the middle of a petty argument, and it would still have been special. I think it's _romantic_ that you wanted to propose where we had our first date. It's sweet. I would have loved you all the more for it. But please, stop pouting and come back to bed. Let's forget about the Netherby and have that pizza. Come on, you know which one you'd really prefer."

John couldn't deny it. What person in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to stay in bed with their loved one? With a sigh, he relented, though not without a tinge of reproach, he was ashamed to say. "Fine. But I'm going to have to call to cancel the reservation. The flowers I took there will have to be kept until tomorrow. Oh, they're going to be chuffed with this."

Anna shot him a grin. "We'll never have to see them again."

"I'll still have to face them tomorrow."

"You don't usually care what people think."

"I don't care what these really think, either. It's just that I know what they'll be like, jeering and sneering and feeling like they went to all that trouble for a peasant."

"It's that lousy attitude that will lose them customers."

"I'm sure the blue bloods will keep it in business." He bent down to pick through the mess of clothes all over the floor, searching for his trousers and the location of his mobile.

"I'm liking the view," Anna said huskily. "You'd look even better with me draped all over you."

A cheesy line if John had ever heard one, but one that made him perk up all the same. Grasping triumphantly at his trousers, he ferreted in his pocket for the elusive mobile. He found it and unlocked it. He heard the seductive shuffling of sheets behind him, and then Anna's warm, slim arms were around his waist.

"Make the call in bed, John," she murmured, her lips travelling a sensual path from between his shoulder blades. It took no encouragement at all on her part to tug him back there. He shuffled back until he was sitting up against the headboard. Finding the relevant number, he hit call, just as Anna crawled up into his lap, her eyes dancing with lust. He bit back a groan as she pressed herself over his groin, tangling her arms and legs around him like a human rope. She began kissing and nibbling at his neck, her fingers running teasingly over his sides in that way she knew he liked. He could feel that tell-tale tingling in his lower half.

He jumped when he heard the smooth, snooty voice in his ear. He had almost completely forgotten about the task in hand in the face of what Anna clearly had a mission to get in hand.

"Good afternoon, the Netherby Hotel. How may I be of assistance?"

"Ah, hello, Simon," he said, in as steady a voice as he could muster when Anna was climbing all over him in the way she was. "Just the person I was looking to speak to. It's John Bates. You know, the man who brought those flowers in earlier?"

"Oh, yes, I remember." Gone was the suave authority of a moment earlier; now he sounded cool and arrogant. "What could you possibly want now?"

Anna pressed firmer against him, sucking on that spot behind his ear that never failed to affect him. The added seduction of the heat between her thighs was more than enough to rouse him. He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse and wavering.

"That's the thing. I don't think I'll be able to make it tonight."

"I see." Simon's tone was now like a block of ice. "You were most urgent this morning. We did everything we could to accommodate you."

"Yes, I know that." A bare-faced lie; Simon had clearly done that accommodating in the most reluctant of fashions.

"So, what could possibly be more important?"

How was it any of that prick's business? John's irritation was only marginally dulled by Anna's ministrations.

"Something's come up," he said, and Anna fell into peals of laughter against his ear at his word choice, grinding pointedly down on the offending appendage. Well, it was partly the truth.

Sounding more incensed than ever, Simon said, "I see. And what kind of something is that?"

"Something big," Anna murmured in his ear, snorting. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as she worked her hand up and down.

"Is there someone there with you?"

"Just noise from the street," said John as flippantly as he could. "Could-could you keep the flowers until tomorrow? I'll swing by and collect them."

"If you wish, sir." It was the most sarcastic, biting word he had ever heard, but not one part of him could care when Anna was sliding down his body as she was, lithe as a beautiful lioness.

"Fantastic," he said, then gasped, "Oh, _fantastic_."

"What?"

John hit the end call button, not bothering to reply, throwing his phone to one side. It went straight off the end of the bed and hit the floor with a dull thud. No matter. Grunting, John moved his hands to Anna's hair, pushing his hips up to where Anna's mouth was very busy. She was right, he thought dimly as the blood pulsed through his head. Why had he ever thought that dinner at the Netherby was a good idea?

* * *

The second time was less urgent than the first, now that the initial hunger had been sated. Anna took her time in exploring him, leaving him a quivering, panting mess beneath her, smug until he turned the tables on her.

They held out for as long as possible, but all good things had to come to an end. The intimacy continued, however. They lay idly by for some time, watching the shadows lengthen on the walls, allowing their bodies to cool in the bracing air, Anna resting her head against his chest while he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Only when the grumbling of their stomachs became too much to ignore did John quit the bed—just long enough to collect the pizzas from the door, wrapped in nothing but his thin robe. Once back in the bedroom, he cast it aside at once, bringing the piping hot boxes over to the bed. And Anna was right: eating pizza naked in bed really was a much better idea than dining in the stuffy Netherby.

Anna was never wrong, John concurred to himself as he soaked up the perfect sight in front of him. It was one of the things that made her such a wonderful woman.

They shared light conversation about their respective days as they ate. It occurred to him that in all of the excitement, he had completely forgotten to ask her about her meeting. She informed him proudly that he was looking at the new head of English, if only temporarily. He couldn't have been prouder.

The excitement of the day began to take its toll. After placing the pizza boxes to one side to be disposed of in the morning, they took it in turns to use the bathroom. Returning to one another's arms, they shared more kisses, kisses that slowed and eventually petered out.

By half past nine, they were both sound asleep.

* * *

Tuesday morning rolled round in a stark contrast to Monday. Rather than leaping straight from the bed, Anna seemed more than content to stay right where she was, her teasing kisses and the weight of her body soon warming him up to the idea. That led to another diversion in the shower, and by the time they'd done with that, they were both running late. John offered to run Anna to school so that she could eat something on the way. She agreed that that might be best, trying not to drop croissant flakes all over the floor while she munched and sipped on coffee periodically, purchased from Costa. He dropped her off in the carpark and promised that he'd be there to pick her up at a quarter past four. She leaned over, gave him a kiss, and headed in to work.

John made the journey across town to Robert Crawley's modest offices with an extra spring in his step. He even managed a genuine smile at Thomas Barrow as he passed his desk on the way to his private office. The younger man narrowed his eyes at him, but John couldn't bring himself to care, not when he was so bloody happy. He set his things down, opened up his emails, and began work with a buoyancy that he hadn't felt in quite some time.

Fifteen minutes later, his office door opened with a bang. Robert stood in the threshold, panting a little.

"Well?" he demanded, oblivious to the way that the others outside the office were rearing their heads to see what was going on inside. Normally, the idea of his private life being discussed across the office made John's blood curdle, but on a day as happy as this one, with news as happy as his, he couldn't bring himself to care in the slightest.

Grinning broadly, he said, "It's official. We're engaged."

Robert swore gleefully, bounding into the room. "Bloody brilliant news, old boy. Knew she wouldn't say no to you. Absolutely besotted, isn't she? So, what was it like? Was it very romantic? It certainly sounded it. I wouldn't say no to you if you proposed to me like that."

John raised his eyebrows, smirking. "Sorry, Rob, no chance of that. I'm a happily taken man."

"You certainly are, you old dog. Oh, Patricia down in the finance company downstairs is going to be absolutely heartbroken. Have you seen the way she looks at you? Like a little lost puppy. I think she's always hoped that you and Anna wouldn't make it so she could swoop in and offer you a shoulder to cry on. And no doubt a bed to forget all about your broken heart in."

John had no idea who Patricia in finance was, nor was he interested in finding out. He hummed, picking up a piece of stray paper from his desk on the pretext of reading it. Robert, undeterred, ventured further into the room, coming to perch on the corner of his desk.

"So, what happened?" he asked eagerly. "I want all the details. I thought you might have texted me last night."

"I was otherwise detained," said John airily. His tone did nothing to fool his friend, who grinned at him lecherously.

"I bet," he leered. "Celebrating, were you?"

"Something like that." John reached out for a red biro, scrawling across the top of the memo he had just finished reading; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Robert's expression fall into one of complete confusion.

"What on earth is that?" he asked. He had his eyes trained on John's left hand. John glanced at it, unable to stop the smile from rising.

"Oh, that," he said casually. "It's an engagement ring."

"An _engagement_ ring?" said Robert, sounding flabbergasted. "What on earth have you got one of those for?"

"You already know: I'm an engaged man now."

"Yes, but usually the woman takes the ring."

"She did take the ring I'd bought her. It's on her finger right now. I took the one that she bought me."

Robert stared. "Anna bought you a ring…?"

"She did."

"But why…?"

"Because Anna asked _me_ to marry _her_."

Robert blinked at him, gobsmacked, before bursting out into a bellow of laughter so loud that John noticed the others outside the office craning their necks for a better view again. Fat tears had gathered in the corners of his eyes.

"You can't be serious!" he said.

"I am."

"But…but Leap Year isn't until next year."

John was amused. "Women _can_ propose on other days of the year, you know."

"I just—bloody hell—it's just—I'm speechless!"

"That's a first."

"But you had it all planned out. The restaurant, the flowers…" Robert grappled for a chair and sat down heavily, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Blimey. Did you have any idea?"

John threw down his pen. He wouldn't be getting any more work done for the time being. "Anna had her own plans. They were simple and beautiful. I'm rather jealous that I didn't think of it myself."

"So what did she do?" Robert urged.

"She called me to the school and told me she needed help with something. It's where we met, you know."

"I know," Robert said with a smile. "So then what?"

"She had me under the cupboard."

"Sounds like a euphemism."

"Hardly. She wanted to recreate the conditions we first met in."

"And you were under the cupboard. Trying to fix the pipes."

"Yes. The first thing she ever saw was my arse in the air."

"How the hell she didn't turn and run is something I'll never know. Anna is a saint."

"You're not telling me anything new there, mate," he said. Christ, Anna had made it through Vera. She deserved a medal for all of the baggage she had shouldered needlessly because of him. Thankfully, that period of his life was long over. Now they had an even better period to look forward to.

"And then she proposed?"

"She did. Bloody wonderful it was, too."

"Care to divulge?"

But John shook his head. "All you need to know is that it was perfect."

Robert whistled, shaking his head, smiling. "Well, however it came about, congratulations, Bates. I mean it. No one deserves it more than you two. Enjoy this new chapter in your lives."

"Oh, I intend to," said John softly.

* * *

At just after quarter past four, John found himself once again pulling into the staff carpark at the school. Opening the car door, he shuffled out so he could stretch his right leg, leaning up against the side of the car and enjoying the cool breeze on his face. He kept his eyes trained on the school entrance, waiting for when he would catch the first glimpse he'd had of his fiancée since that morning.

His fiancée. The words still brought a huge smile to his face. God, he could only imagine what a fool he'd look like when he could say his _wife_.

He was distracted from his thoughts by the bob of a golden head—his Anna. The carpark had long been deserted by children eager to get out of their daily prison, with only a dozen or so teachers' cars still remaining, and he felt it safe to cross the gravel to meet her halfway. She almost winded him with her swinging bag of exercise books as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Hello, fiancé," she said contentedly.

"Hello, fiancée," he echoed, smiling stupidly and turning his cheek to the crown of her head. "How was your day?"

"Slow. I kept thinking about you."

"What a coincidence. Mine was just the same."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"Just Robert. But he already knew that I was planning to propose. You?"

"Only the teachers in the staffroom. The pupils are pretty perceptive, but none of them noticed today."

"Molesley knows, then, does he?" John asked casually.

Anna rolled her eyes, and he laughed, snugging her closer. Alone in the carpark, he dipped his head towards her, stealing a quick kiss from her mouth.

"Eh, Miss, this is becoming quite a regular occurrence! Don't tell me I gotta start lecturin' you on keepin' your mind on your studies!"

Hastily, they pulled apart. John recognised Dane, the young lad from yesterday, trudging towards them. Anna cleared her throat and smoothed down her hair.

"Dane, what are you still doing here?" she asked. "You're not in detention, are you?"

Dane looked at her incredulously. "No, Miss. Been football training." He gestured down at his sweaty kit and the mud caking his knees. "D'you really think I could get away with turning up to detention looking like this?"

"Well, Mr. Quigley's PE detentions are notorious for how gruelling they are," Anna said nonchalantly. "I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that you'd been in detention with him with the state of you like that."

"Nah, Miss, it's all sound. What're you still doin' here, anyway?"

"I had some marking to finish."

"You looked at our stuff yet?"

"I have."

"What did I get?"

She smiled at him. "You'll find out tomorrow morning."

Dane pouted. "That sucks." He looked at John. "What do you do now? You into Englishy shi-stuff too?"

"I work for the local publishing company," said John.

The lad's eyes widened. "No way! That's sick!"

He must have looked nonplussed, because Anna giggled. "He means it's good."

"Oh. Right." John was still baffled. Why would 'sick' ever have _good_ connotations? He'd never be able to fathom today's youth. "Yes, I suppose it is rather interesting. Not always, though. Depends on what you've been given to read."

Dane sniggered. "You like that _Fifty Shades_ style stuff?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "And on that note, we'd better be going. I'll see you tomorrow, Dane."

"Sure," he said. Then: "Hey! Is that what I think it is?" He tapped his third finger enthusiastically.

Anna glanced at John, the secret smile that he'd seen on her face so many times over the past twenty-four hours erupting again. "If you're thinking that it's an engagement ring, yes, you're right."

"Mint! That weren't there yesterday, were it?"

"It wasn't, no."

"Congratulations," he said, and for a moment the mask slipped, showing the sincere, likeable lad underneath the bluster. It was gone in a split second, eclipsed with a cheeky grin. "Well, Beyoncé does say that if you like it you need to put a ring on it. How long's it taken?"

"Long enough," Anna laughed, sliding her gaze towards him; John was glad that she didn't mention that, actually, she had got in there first. He was sure that he would never hear the end of _that_ one.

"Wait 'til I tell Brad," said Dane. He'd already got his phone out. "He's gonna be well gutted. He fancies you, Miss. Anyway, I'm gonna head off now. See you tomorrow. Nice work, Miss Smith's fella!"

He took off at a run then, with nary a look backwards.

"He hasn't mellowed overnight, I see," said John in amusement.

"I'm not sure he ever will."

"He's got confidence in abundance."

"I told you yesterday: most of it is an act. He's had a difficult childhood. His dad is in prison and social services took him off his mum as a baby. He was fostered and then adopted. I think most of his bravado is a front to stop the world from hurting him anymore. He can be a handful, but he's got a good heart. And he's talented at English, actually. He's already asked me if I'll be his mentor when it comes to writing his personal statement for university. I think he'd like to teach."

"Well, it's good that he's doing something good with his life instead of following the paths that his parents trod."

"It is." Anna shook herself. "Anyway, let's head off home."

John twined his left hand through her right, smiling at the way her eyes lit up when that band of metal pressed against her. "Remember, there's one more stop we need to make before we do that."

* * *

They pulled up outside the Netherby a short time later. John knocked the gearstick into neutral and pulled the handbrake on.

"Right," he said. "Time to get those flowers back."

"I'm intrigued to see what reception you get after yesterday's palaver," Anna teased.

John arched his eyebrow at her. "Whose fault was that really? You were the one who dragged me into bed and kept me there for your sexual pleasure."

"Oh, yes, because you were helpless in all this," she snorted.

"I challenge any man not to be persuaded when his woman offers him naked takeaway. You made it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the sins of the flesh. We'd have made it, otherwise. A little late, perhaps, since you were so determined to get me into bed in the first place, but we'd have got there. You were the one who encouraged me to ring and cancel."

"You didn't need much encouraging."

He shot her a smug look. "Again, what is a man to do when his fiancée is naked in his lap?"

"You are impossible." But she twined her fingers through his, and he counted that as a victory. Together, they climbed the stairs up to the Netherby's impressive gilded doors. Once inside, they stood in the lobby, peering into the impressive dining hall. It was still early for eaters, but there were a handful of well to-do people sitting at pristine round tables, sharing quiet conversation over picky canapés. John shifted his weight on his cane.

"What do you think they'd do if I rang the bell?" he whispered.

"Probably have your guts for garters. Something tells me they don't take kindly to lowering their standards here."

"Oh, believe me, that isn't far off the mark. The way that Simon bloke spoke to me yesterday…" He trailed off as the devil himself walked in front of them. "And there he is."

Simon glanced across and stopped short when he saw them. He did not look thrilled. Without any pleasantries, he said, "What are you doing here?"

"I said I'd call in for the flowers I brought yesterday," said John. "I trust you still have them?"

Simon's lip curled as he looked Anna up and down. Clearly he was thinking what most people did when they initially saw the two of them together: what was someone like Anna, so young and vibrant and beautiful, doing with someone like him? In that moment, with the flash of Anna's engagement ring catching the late afternoon sun as she hitched her handbag further on her shoulder, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"We do," he said slowly.

"Would it be possible for you to fetch them?"

"Please?" Anna added.

"I am rather busy at the moment. I'm checking the guest list for tonight. Sam Smith is stopping here on his final leg to Leeds."

John had no idea who that was. "How exciting for you."

"It is a great honour for the Netherby," Simon said importantly. "I'm sure there will be paparazzi."

"You'd better hurry, then," said John dryly. "In case someone spots us. Happens all the time when we're in London, doesn't it, love?"

"Oh, yes." The side of Anna's mouth quirked, and her thick Yorkshire accent probably made it clear that they rarely spent any time in the capital.

Simon gave them another sneering look before saying, as if it caused him physical pain to do so, "I shall retrieve the flowers. Wait there."

"All right, I see what you mean now," said Anna. "He's not very nice, is he?"

"Complete prat is what he is," said John. "I don't think we'll be coming back again regardless of whether you liked it here or not."

She shrugged. "There are plenty of other places to dine. Nicer places. And there's nowhere nicer than our own kitchen."

Her words conjured up the memories that they'd shared, of pottering around their space together, brushing hands and bumping up against each other, working together to create an appetising meal, sitting opposite each other at their own table, free to laugh as loudly as they liked, and engage in friendly debates, and lean across to touch or kiss whenever the fancy struck them.

It seemed that Simon was deliberately making them wait a long time, for it took him almost fifteen minutes to reappear with the bouquet of flowers. Thankfully, they seemed no worse for wear, still vibrant and pretty.

"Here," he said sourly, thrusting them out with no care. John caught them and passed them over to Anna with much more delicacy. Even though they weren't alone, Anna's eyes lit up.

"Oh, John, they're beautiful!" she cooed. "Wildflowers are my favourites!"

"I know," he said softly as she buried her nose in them. "I'm glad you like them."

"I love them," she said. "I'll put them in water as soon as I get home."

Simon had already turned away, disinterested. John did not bother thanking him, guiding Anna out of the grand entrance hall with his hand on the small of her back. Only when they were back at the car did he shake his head.

"You know, I've a good mind to post a snotty review on TripAdvisor," he said. "It would serve them right."

Anna shrugged. "If you want. But later. After we've had tea. I'm starving. And, well, I've something else in mind for afterwards and that does not involve you being on your laptop, Mr. Bates." She gave him a dark, desirous look that could not be misinterpreted.

Good God, this change in their relationship really had given her an insatiable appetite. Switching on the ignition, John took a moment to slide his hand over his fiancée's knee.

"What are we waiting for, then?" he said thickly, and started to point them towards home and the world of love that awaited them there.

* * *

 **A/N:** I always wanted to write a Leap Year fic, but I didn't find the inspiration until September. Earlier in the year, mr-and-mrs-bates and I had had a discussion about the idea of Anna proposing, and with mr-and-mrs-bates' own wedding being mere days away now, I thought it might be a nice time to write it. So, Happy Birthday, and congratulations on your upcoming nuptials! :)


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